


audeamus; let us dare

by sopepremacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRONTE, One Shot, dramione are in the debate team, dramione were high school sweethearts, modern dramione au, theo throws wild parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopepremacy/pseuds/sopepremacy
Summary: Until —He licks his lips.He meets her eyes.He takes a step forward, crowding her against the lift barre.“Come on, Granger, time to trust me.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	audeamus; let us dare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faintlydisappointed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faintlydisappointed/gifts).



> this is a dramione fic is for my birthday twin !!!! we both became friends after talking about our intense love for dramione back when we were 13? 14? and here we are still going strong and dramione-ing together HSKDJSK 💖 it's such an amazing coincidence our birthdays are on the same day LMAO god rly said ! make them DRAMIONE SOULMATES !
> 
> ✿ happy birthday bronte 🥳 !!!!!! i hope u like this ehehe it was really fun writing dramione after so many years LOL have a great birthday ilysm 🎂
> 
> alternative title: dramione — why express romantic interest like a normal person when you can antagonise them into submission instead

When Hermione entered the lift that morning, she wasn’t expecting to see Draco Malfoy. They’d both gone to school together. 

_Draco Malfoy’s first kiss was with Hermione Granger at a 1980s themed after-school dance in junior high — he’d made fun of her seemingly untameable hair back then and in response, she’d poured half her cup of iced peach tea right onto the front of his Ralph Lauren white polo shirt. But her lips had been soft and her tongue had been cold and afterwards when all he’d cared about doing was pretending that his palms weren’t sweaty and his heart wasn’t racing, her smile had been tentative and her gaze had been thoughtful and her cheeks had been as red as her cherry lip-gloss stain on his left cheek._

He starts at the sound of her heels hitting the floor as she enters the lift, head snapping up in astonishment, and something that vaguely resembles panic flashes like lightning across his face. A sharp stab of vicious, vindictive satisfaction twists in her gut.

It had been six years.

_Draco Malfoy lost his virginity to Hermione Granger in a queen-sized bed at a Holiday Inn hotel when the debate team had finally scored an invite to the Nationals — he’d manage to smuggle a bottle of his dad’s whiskey into his suitcase and she’d promptly told on him to McGonagall and he’d been so furious and she’d been so frustrated and their fight had echoed loudly, a bang! a clash of the two most fiery personalities in the team, in the winter-empty hotel pool hallway and it wasn’t until later, when everything had been awkward and fumbling and fast and new — it wasn’t until later, when he’d opened his eyes to take the condom off and her knee had hit him in the chin and his answering laugh had caught even him by surprise — it wasn’t until later, later, later that he’d tried to remember how the scratchy cotton bed sheets had felt against his skin and couldn’t, no, he could only recall the brown of her eyes and the hitch of her breath and —_

“Her— Hermione,” he says, faltering slightly as he steals a glance at his watch — a Rolex, she knows, impossibly huge and overtly masculine and gleaming shiny, polished gold in the lift lighting, reflecting off the corporate-standard metal walls. He’d gotten it for his eighteenth birthday. The wrapping paper had been covered in race cars. She knew that because she was there. 

“Been a while,” she offers, tone deceptively pleasant.

He winces at her tone, scratching at the back of his neck, a sign of nervousness.

“It’s, ah, been a, um, couple of years, yeah.”

“Six.”

“What?”

“It’s been six years. Not ‘a couple’. Six.”

His eyes — flinty pale grey, cool and fathomless and magnetising, always — sweep from her mouth to her neck to her breasts and then back up again. His smirk, she notes acidly, is still just as infuriating as before.

“I take it I was missed, then,” he says, sounding amused and a little smug.

“And I take it I wasn’t.”

_Draco Malfoy’s second, third, and fourth kisses were with Hermione Granger in the shadows under the stairs at Theodore Nott’s ninth-grade New Year’s party — her dress had been periwinkle blue and his collar had been stiff as it rubbed against the underside of his jaw and the countdown to midnight had felt like a finish line —_

“You work here too?” he asks, a little too casually.

“I’m the human resource manager.”

“Ah. New promotion?”

She furrows her brow. “Last week. How did you —”

He toys with the rolled-up cuff of his shirt. “What happened to law school?”

“None of your business.”

“Well, that’s evasive.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Refusing to answer a perfectly innocent question —”

“A _personal_ question,” she interjects, somewhat mulishly. “And nothing you do is _ever_ innocent.”

“Pretty sure that’s slander.”

“Pretty sure that’s bullshit.”

“Just — answer the fucking question, Granger. What happened to law school?”

Her nostrils flare.

Six years.

_Six_ years.

They hadn’t been friends. Not the right kind of friends, at least. But he’d owed her a goodbye then and he owes her an apology now and Hermione — _she_ owes him nothing.

_Nothing_.

So she plasters on a benign smile, leans back against the barre lining the lift, and she whispers to him, cheerfully conspiratorial —

“ _Google me_ , Malfoy.”

And Draco, he huffs and he glares and he hesitates when his gaze darts to her lips for a lingering, all-too-familiar split-second — but then he’s clearing his throat, fiddling with the clasp of his watch, swallowing as he takes a pointed step backwards, eyes blinking owlishly, and she thinks, a little bitterly, that it’s as much of a tactical retreat as it is an admission of guilt.

Until —

He licks his lips.

He meets her eyes.

He takes a step forward, crowding her against the lift barre.

And she feels burned from the inside out, again, again, and time stalls and gravity bends and she isn’t moving away from him as he leans forward, down, fits his mouth to the shell of her ear and whispers —

“Come on, Granger, time to trust me.”

And it all went to hell from there.

**Author's Note:**

> hi !!! tell me how u feel/what can be improved on in the comments :D  
> i now mostly write about bts fics so if you like them too u can check more of my works ehe  
> if u wanna be friends find me on twitter @hobicultist :D i mostly cry about hobi (and rap line) heheh


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